


take me to the feeling

by chocolatemoon



Category: Soy Luna (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, but that's kind of how i write, more dialogue than actual plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemoon/pseuds/chocolatemoon
Summary: Some nights make you think—and feel—more than others.





	take me to the feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Run Away With Me" by Carly Rae Jepsen. I wrote this before season 3 started, so it's a bit AU-ish in a way, I guess.  
> (Also: Luna is 19, and Matteo is 20 in this story.)
> 
> Originally posted on my tumblr.

Luna's sitting on the edge of the hotel swimming pool with her feet in the water, a half-eaten popsicle in her hand. Even though the sun has bled out over the horizon to welcome the night, it’s far from dark; there are so many lights emerging from the city, bringing a glow to everything. There’s a sense of magic hanging in the air. This is why she loves big cities; they make you believe that anything can happen.

She’s been feeling low since yesterday. Back then she wrote it off as nothing, thinking that it might be hunger or something equally insignificant. Now, however, she has to recognize it for what it is: nerves. Uneasiness. Which is _dumb_. She shouldn’t be nervous. This isn’t the biggest competition she’s partaken in. The stakes have been higher, the risks greater. She’s done this for years, for goodness sake, she and her teammates have been ready for weeks. Still, anxiety has dug its claws in her, clutching so tight that she can no longer ignore it.

The few hotel guests that are left in the pool area seem to be packing up their things and getting ready for the evening. Luna doesn’t move. She enjoys the peaceful atmosphere. It makes her focused, sharp, like she’ll find a cure to the sickness if she sits here long enough. It’s a stark contrast from Jim and Yam’s hotel room where the others have gathered to hang out and have fun before the weight of what’s ahead gets too heavy on their shoulders.

She’s usually a part of the lively bunch that is her group of friends – that’s where she belongs – but not when she’s like this. Not when she isn’t herself. She prefers not showing others her sadness, since there’s always the possibility of making them sad in return, and she hates the sinking feeling in her gut that it leads to, like she’s screwed up real bad and doesn’t have a clue on how to fix it.

Besides, if it’s simply nerves there’s no need to make anyone else worry. She can handle it on her own.

(Unless it’s about that _other_ thing.)

“So this is where you went, delivery girl,” says a familiar voice behind her and she turns her head.

It’s Matteo, mouth curved into his trademark smirk and hands stuffed into his pockets, walking towards her in that casual, effortless way of his.

She shrugs. “I just needed to go and clear my head a little.”

He sits down next to her. He looks pointedly at her popsicle until she sighs exaggeratedly (for dramatic effect, which makes him chuckle) and hands it over to him.

He gives it a taste, then makes a puzzled face. “What flavor is this supposed to be?”

“Raspberry.”

“Really? It’s awful. Too sweet.”

 _Well, I didn’t buy it for you anyway_ , she thinks as he hands it back to her. Out loud, she says, “Don’t you like sweet things?”

Without missing a beat: “I like _you_.”

He states it so seriously, yet there’s a playfulness in his gaze. Luna’s face instantly reddens. Stupid Matteo that always has to make her blush. He gives her cheek a swift kiss, and then she doesn’t mind it as much.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asks, careful not to let her inner turmoil be heard in her voice, and he shakes his head.

“No. We’re going to crush it. The other teams got nothing on us.”

“Mmm, it was a stupid question.” She licks the popsicle. The taste is the same. She doesn’t really get what he means with it being “too sweet”. “Why would the king of the rink be nervous?”

He laughs. “Exactly.”

The conversation fizzles out, and then it’s just them smiling at each other. Her gaze drifts down to the collar of his shirt where she notices that the first few buttons are undone, exposing the skin underneath. (A rather improper thought materializes in her head – a solid proof that she has one too many teenage hormones circulating in her bloodstream. Or perhaps she should blame it on being in love.)

Matteo reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingers, wanders down to her neck and stays there, fingers splayed over her nape, a light contact that has her heart fluttering in her chest. He leans in and kisses her. He tastes a little like raspberries, and both of their lips are kind of sticky from the popsicle, but it’s pleasant nonetheless. Even though it’s a short one, chaste since they’re not alone, it still leaves her all warm inside and wanting more.

(Judging by the look on his face, Matteo wants more, too.)

Despite this, he pulls away, and Luna concentrates on finishing the popsicle to prevent herself from kissing him again.

She’s not much for PDA, which Matteo has respected from the beginning. It’s not that she’s a prude or easily embarrassed or anything like that. Holding hands and hugs and a kiss every now and then are totally fine. But along with the progress of their relationship, those innocent acts don’t always feel so innocent anymore. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what’s appropriate or not when his lips are on hers and his hands are tangled up in her hair or touching her body. He just has this way of making her forget everything except the two of them, of drawing all of her focus onto himself.

She glances at his profile, at the shape of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the hint of stubble on his jaw. Her eyes linger on his lips.

“See something you like?” he asks in that smug tone he’s mastered so well.

“I like _you_ ,” she replies, making a poor attempt at copying his voice. There’s nothing in his expression indicating that he finds it funny, apart from the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s reassuring,” he says. “You’re my girlfriend after all. Would be awkward if you didn’t like me.”

“And you know what else? I don’t just _like_ you, I also–”

“No?”

“–happen to _love_ you. Even though you interrupted me.”

“What a relief.” He grins, confident as ever, as he stands up. “So you love me, huh?”

“Yup.” Waving the thin popsicle stick in the air, she stands up as well. “About this much.”

“Oh, really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

She puts on her shoes, and then they walk back to the hotel. Instead of heading inside to the lobby, she wraps a hand around his wrist and leads him around the building and out onto the street.

“You don’t want to go back inside?” he asks.

“No. Let’s go explore the city.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now!” She motions to their surroundings with both of her hands. “It’s a great opportunity to see something new and different! Think about it, Matteo. When will we ever be here again?”

“In a few years when we’re traveling the world together.”

His reply prompts a series of vivid images in her mind. Fluffy clouds viewed from an airplane window. Skyscrapers glistening in the sun. Walking through crowded streets and ancient ruins together with Matteo. Beaches with white sand and crystal-clear water. Landscapes covered in glistening snow. Drinking coffee in cozy European cafés while the rain is pouring outside.

“Is that your dream? Being a globetrotter?”

“My dream is to be next to you. Wherever that may be.”

There it is – that breathtaking sincerity of his. That _I-will-do-anything-for-you_ certainty in his voice.

She presses her lips together, runs a hand through her hair, fights back a smile. Lets it win anyway, because it’s too much effort on her part to resist it. “You do know how to charm a girl, I’ll give you that.”

“Is it turning you on?”

“Please.” She smacks his upper arm lightly. “New rule. Just for tonight. You’re not allowed to speak unless you’re being serious.”

“Oh, believe me, I am dead serious.”

She stifles a laugh. _Of course._

He takes her hand, and together they roam the streets, passing shop windows and plazas and restaurants. They find an arcade where they spend forty-five minutes on silly games neither of them are good at. Matteo claims he’s the winner more often than what’s actually true, but it’s mainly for teasing so she lets him do his little victory dance. He calls her a sore loser (although she hasn’t said a word) and she has to beat him in the next three games to effectively shut him up. After that they wander through a shopping mall full of fancy stores, where the latest pop songs are streaming out from the speakers, and the prices are so high it’s honestly ludicrous.

Once they’re outside again, they start looking for a place that sells food. They end up buying burgers and fries, and they settle for a bench on a path overlooking the ocean and the harbor. While eating, they chat idly about everything and nothing. The competition, their friends, university lectures and anecdotes. It’s all very lighthearted; lots of laughter and teasing comments.

Matteo takes the plastic lid off his cup and stirs the remaining ice and soda around with his straw. “Still nervous about tomorrow?”

“I never said I was.”

“No, but I could tell.” He looks at her, smiling a little. “When you asked me earlier I heard it in your voice. Saw it in your face, your body language. Not to mention you left the room with the lamest excuse ever.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she says exactly that. Matteo doesn’t laugh, like she anticipates, instead he holds her gaze, stays serious.

“Is it just about the competition, or is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “Today I’ve been … out of it. And when you mentioned traveling …” She trails off. The explanation is right there at the tip of her tongue, yet her stomach knots itself at the thought of uncapping all the confusion and questions she’s bottled up in the last twenty-four hours.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“But–but I do! I don’t mean to keep things from you, Matteo, I really don’t. But I think I’ve had this feeling inside for quite a while now – even though I’ve suppressed it for months, maybe years. It’s this odd sense of dreaming, of not actually being awake. Like, how else are you supposed to react when you find out that you’re not who you thought you were, and that people have been trying to hide the truth about your past away from you?” She tilts her head back to look up at the sky. There are no stars. “I’ve had time to process it, but it still feels so surreal. And I just … I don’t know.”

“What are you saying?”

_Here goes nothing._

“I kind of … want to run away.”

He furrows his eyebrows. And she can see it; how the logical side of him kicks in, how he’s trying to make sense of her words.

“Okay, so …” He makes a pause as if he has to carefully choose how to continue from there. “I’m assuming you’re referring to your life in general.”

She nods. Hearing it out loud from someone else makes it so much more real. “I don’t mean it _literally_ , obviously. It would never work. l’m aware of that.”

“I can’t say I blame you, though, considering everything that’s happened with your biological family. You’ve had a lot to deal with. And you’ve done well, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. You’re a strong person, Luna. Nothing is impossible in your eyes.”

She tries to smile at that, but it isn’t entirely genuine. “If I were to run away – and this is all strictly hypothetical – would you come with me?”

“Isn’t the whole point of running away that you’re leaving _everything_ behind?”

“So that’s a no?”

“I suspect the question isn’t as hypothetical as you say it is.” He exhales audibly, as if frustration is beginning to seep in. “I love you, but frankly, I don’t understand how your brain is wired sometimes.”

“Well, the whole idea _is_ a bit crazy. I wouldn’t expect you to follow me.”

“No–Fuck, have you even heard a word I’ve said to you? I said I’d follow you anywhere, and that wasn’t a lie, or an exaggeration. You’re everything to me.”

A group of loud English-speaking tourists walks by them right then, and once they’re gone, silence unfolds between her and Matteo. He breaks eye contact and Luna stares down at her feet. The sight of her new favorite pair of sneakers does little to stop the knot in her stomach from evolving into a bird’s nest; a tangled mess of all these emotions she can’t seem to control.

It’s almost as if it’s a bit risky to speak one’s mind tonight. Everything is getting magnified in the neon lights. Their dreams and fears and wants have a darker side to them that wasn’t there before, or perhaps they simply weren’t visible until the sunset lit them up.

She’s about to apologize for being such a mess when Matteo asks, his voice soft:

“Would you like to know what I really think about all of this?”

She looks up at him. He puts his cup away before letting his eyes meet hers.

“We’re still in university. It’ll be a while before we both have graduated. And that’s what we’re going to do, because we’ve worked hard for it, and it would be reckless to throw it away for the sake of avoiding reality. Leaving won’t solve anything. And let’s be real here – you wouldn’t be able to just pack up your things in a bag and run off as if you were in a movie. You care so much about the people around you, Luna. The guilt would eat you alive. It’d make you miserable.”

She bites her lower lip, slowly nodding her head a couple of times. As if she doesn’t already know this herself. A thought strikes her, and a small laugh manages to escape her mouth despite the seriousness of the conversation.

Matteo narrows his eyes at her. “What.”

“It’s kind of funny – you being the rational one.”

For a moment, he stills, his expression unreadable, and Luna wonders if she’s crossed the line, but then he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Remind me why am I dating you again?” His tone is light. There’s a hint of a smile. And that’s how she knows he’s not mad.

“Because you love me,” she replies casually. She bumps his knee with her own.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says, placing one hand on her knee. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What sort?”

“Patience, delivery girl. I’m well aware you lack a great amount, but this is important.”

She rolls her eyes. His ability to bounce back to his normal snobbish self never ceases to amaze her.

“After you graduate, I’ll run away with you.” Not allowing her to react apart from raising her eyebrows in surprise, he continues, “If that still matters to you then, that is.” She parts her lips to answer, but he holds up a finger. “I’m not finished yet. It won’t be ‘running away’ in the literal sense. We’ve got plenty of time to make up plans. And that gives you the time you need to tell your family and Simón about it – otherwise you won’t forgive yourself. How many details is all up to you. Then we can go wherever you like. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah, it sounds good. Very reasonable.”

“You told me to be serious tonight, remember?”

“Right,” she laughs. “Should we, um, shake hands or make a pinky promise or …?”

He pretends contemplating for a few seconds before his mouth forms a broad smile. “I think it’s only appropriate to seal the deal with a kiss.”

“Of course you do.” She moves closer to him, and brushes her lips against his, the briefest of touches. She pulls away a little, waits, and when he doesn’t do anything, she kisses him again, a little bit longer this time.

There’s an intensity lying beneath, and she’s sure that he can sense it, too, because he ends the kiss sooner than she’d like (though it’s probably for the best). He rests his forehead against hers, and she keeps her eyes closed, treasuring the moment like it’s fragile, savoring it until it’s engraved into her memory forever. The wind is picking up, playing with her hair, and running across her skin. Tank top and shorts don’t seem like such a smart choice anymore. She should’ve taken her denim jacket with her.

“Luna.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

She smiles. Brushes the tip of her nose against his. Kisses the corner of his mouth. “Love you, too.”

He wraps his arms around her, and she leans into him, hiding her face in his neck. Perhaps he’s noticed that she’s starting to get cold. And even if that isn’t the case, it’s nice to just hug him. To find comfort in his presence without having to use any words.

Soon, they make their way back to the hotel. The magnetic atmosphere from outside accompanies them inside into the elevator, and they stand facing each other, two pair of hands intertwined between them. The look in Matteo’s eyes sends tingles down her spine. Her heart is beating a little faster than usual, like it can tell that she’s about to make the biggest decision of the night.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says as the elevator starts to ascend.

“You do?” he replies. God, she loves the smile he’s wearing.

“Yes.” Despite the fact that there’s no one else there, she lowers her voice, “Because _I’m_ thinking it, too.”

“I’m the only one on the team who doesn’t have a roommate. Maybe we should take advantage of that.”

“We have to get up early for our last practice tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t wake up in my bed.”

She nearly shivers. The temptation is too strong to deny; it’s pulling her in like gravity.

It’s been a long day. She’s dwelled over things by herself, poured out her heart for Matteo, shared one of her deepest secrets with him. She could use some relief. So it’s not really a bad decision – there are far more reckless things they could do.

“Okay,” she says in a surprisingly steady voice right before the elevator arrives at their floor and the doors open. Matteo smiles at her, squeezes her hands once before letting go of them. Luna takes a deep breath, exhales the last of her worries.

They walk down the corridor in silence. ( _More like in anticipation_ , notes the part of her brain that hasn’t gotten completely hazy by lust.) Matteo unlocks the door, and they step into a room that’s identical to the one she and Nina share. She can’t make out the color scheme or too many details, though it’s not as dark as it would be if it weren’t for the city lights coming in through the windows.

She has barely turned around to comment on the lighting before he has grabbed her hips to pull her closer, and pressed his lips against hers. She reciprocates gladly, because in the privacy of a hotel room it’s definitely not as innocent as their earlier public kisses. There’s nothing holding them back in here.

She breaks the kiss – albeit a little bit reluctantly. “Hey, I almost forgot to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For checking up on me, for listening to me, for showing your support. So thank you. It means a lot.”

“You see, contrary to popular belief, I’m not that selfish.”

“ _Well_ … you’ve gotten better over the years.”

He kisses her again, and while it’s still got heat, it’s also sweet and slow, which is exactly what she needs right now.

Some days (though they are far and few between) she’s afraid she might burst into flames, go beyond a limit she won’t be able to return from, like a meteor crashing towards its own demise. Her life is so fast-paced – always has been – and that’s why a moment like this matters. Time may not stop for her and Matteo, but they make the best of what they’ve been granted with.

They start taking off their clothes as they move to the bed. Her tank top gets somehow stuck on one of her earrings on its way over her head, and Matteo has to help her out. (“It’s not funny!” she exclaims when she can hear him trying to hold back his laughter.) In the back of her head she briefly remembers the awkwardness of the first time, and how insecure she felt about it all. There’s nothing uncertain about these touches, though; each and every one of them is so thoughtful, so affectionate. Heat courses through her veins with every shared look between them. Her heart sighs deeply with every kiss he plants on her skin.

There may not exist such a thing as a perfect moment, but _this_?

This is pretty damn close.

/

(“Will you really run away with me?” she whispers later when they’re lying next to each other.

He strokes her cheekbone with his fingertips. “When the time comes.” His dark eyes are filled with so much love that she could cry. “You can count on me, Luna.”)


End file.
